


Ferris Wheels (Are The Most Romantic Carnival Ride)

by insertcreativeao3namehere



Series: blue is bram is blue [3]
Category: Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: (of sorts), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blue is Bram is Blue, But only very slightly, Fluff, M/M, Missing Scene, What-Ifs (Plural), but ferris wheels are p romantic too so here we go, the reveal, the tilt-a-whirl was super symbolic and Important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 04:27:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13494952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insertcreativeao3namehere/pseuds/insertcreativeao3namehere
Summary: Blue is Bram is Blue, Part III. The Reveal, remixed.Part III in a series of alternative ways that Simon could have found out that Bram is Blue at different points in the novel. Each instalment can be read as a standalone.At the carnival, Simon overhears a certain someone say they're looking for him. Ferris Wheels replace Tilt-A-Whirls (as symbolic as that was).





	Ferris Wheels (Are The Most Romantic Carnival Ride)

**Author's Note:**

> Part III. Only a very slight variation in this one. 
> 
> If you have any other ideas for alternate versions of The Reveal, prompt away in the comments! I do have a couple more ideas kicking around, but will probably shift my focus to non-Reveal-remixes for the time being - but let me know if there was a particular point in the novel that you were screaming for the reveal to happen, and I'll try to make it happen!

  * **iii. overheard conversations and ferris wheels**



 

8:30.

 

It’s half an hour before the carnival closes, and the crowds are really starting to thin. I’m pretty sure most of my friends have already left. I don’t know whether Blue left before I got here, because I was stupidly late to my own supposed-to-be romantic gesture, or whether he just never showed in the first place. My hope is steadily dwindling with the crowds.

 

And then, from the other side of a row of carnival games, I hear a panicked, familiar-sounding voice I can’t quite place: “Hey, have you seen Simon?”

 

I come to a complete, comically quick standstill, nearly crashing into some girl holding a gigantic cloud of cotton candy. “Sorry, sorry,” I mutter distractedly, feet planted down as if they’re stuck, staying rooted to the spot. She gives me a weird look and a wide berth, scooting around and away from my stock-still statue form. From around the corner, through the Laughing Clowns game at the end of the row, I can hear a voice I _can_ place replying.

 

“ _You’re_ the guy Simon’s been looking for all night?” It’s Abby. Of course it is. Freaking Abby. Her voice is distinctly, noticeably full of recognition, with a slight tone of surprise, but not that much.

 

There’s a beat of silence, and then Nick adds, “I’m pretty sure he hasn’t left yet, dude. If you are looking for Simon.” I can just picture them looking at each other, all conspiring, having found who I was looking for before I did. But they still don’t know the full story – just how long this has been going on.

 

“Yeah. I am.” The voice, tantalisingly familiar, has a slight edge to it, of something like defiance. Like he knows that saying it is showing his cards, at this point, and he’s admitting that he’s looking for me anyway. I still can’t quite place it.

 

I will my feet to move, and step slowly around the corner.

 

Nick and Abby can see me now, but Blue can’t. And now I know why the voice was so familiar, but yet so unfamiliar – it’s because I’ve only heard it a handful of times.

 

I can still recognise him, even if he isn’t facing me. Standing with his back to me, it’s the curly hair, the sticky-out ears and the soccer calves of Bram Greenfeld.

 

I told myself that I’d know when I saw him, and I do – I know for sure, now, a certainty deep in my gut, that this is him. Although it _is_ sort of cheating, because I already heard him say that he’s looking for me.

 

I make eye contact with Abby, and she grins impossibly wider. “Looks like you’re in luck,” she says, and Bram follows her line of sight, and spins around.

 

His soft eyes meet mine, and he looks… incredibly nervous. And incredibly gorgeous. His lips are parted slightly, and his eyes are expressive and warm.

 

My heart immediately sets itself to the task of determinedly trying to break out of my chest. “Hi,” I say, a little breathlessly. “It’s you.” My face is already burning up, and my emotions have got to be written all over it, open with happiness and delight and joy.

 

Those are all synonyms for the same thing, but nevertheless. Tom-ay-to, tom-ah-to.

 

“It’s me,” he agrees, and his hand reaches up and hooks onto the back of his neck. He looks away, and then back again, like he wants to keep looking but the sustained eye contact is a bit too much. Or at least, that’s how it feels for me, so I guess it’s probable that that feeling might apply to him as well.

 

My eyes slide past him to take in Nick and Abby, who are standing behind him with the most stupidly smug grins on their faces, as if they have anything to be smug _about._ They’re doing the whole proud-parent act. Nick waggles his eyebrows at me. Actually _waggles his eyebrows at me,_ which is not something I ever thought I’d see him do, least of all directed at me. It’s a bit ridiculous.

 

As grateful as I am for their support, I _really_ don’t want them to be here right now.

 

“Oh, go away, you voyeurs,” I say to them exasperatedly. Abby winks at me, and grabs Nick’s hand to pull him away with her, giggling all the while, even having the hide to call out “have fun!” over her damn shoulder as she goes.

 

And then it’s just Bram and me, almost alone in the swirling magic of the carnival lights in the twilight sky, the crowds close to gone and the stars starting to show. 

 

“Hey,” I say, again, quite redundantly. I’ve drawn a mental blank, and can’t manage to contribute anything more helpful than that. Bram doesn’t seem to mind, though. He smiles at me, and it’s the most amazing thing to watch, this wide, kind of goofy, kind of delighted-looking lopsided smile blooming across his face. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him smile like this before. There’s this feeling like a swelling balloon in my stomach, and I can’t look away. He’s freaking radiant.

 

I want to tell him that, but it feels a bit too Real, so instead I blurt out, “Do you want to go on the Ferris wheel?”

 

“Okay,” Bram replies, and that smile is still there, lingering, lighting up his face in a way I’ve never seen before. I never want it to go away. I want to be the one keeping it there. And the fact that that actually seems in reach is pretty mindblowing.

 

We set off, and the small amount of distance between us is already too much. The Ferris wheel isn’t far – thankfully, as it’s probably close to closing – and there’s only three people in front of us.

 

I feel jittery with anticipation, and I want to say something, but not in earshot of other people. It’s like I can physically feel the distance stretching between our hands. We reach the front of the line, and count out the remaining tokens.

 

“Last ride, guys,” the bored-looking girl manning (manning? Is that the right word to use here?) the Ferris wheel says. “Two rotations, then we’re closing up.” I think I might say something in response, hopefully a thank you, but I don’t actually know what it was.

 

I slide into the narrow seat first, and Bram climbs in next to me. There’s hardly any space between us now – the carriage isn’t big enough to accommodate it. The bar is lowered in front of our laps, and our little swinging carriage starts cranking up.

 

Bram shifts in the narrow seat so that his knee is pressed up next to mine. His hands, slim and long-fingered and knobbly-knuckled, are resting lightly on the bar in front of us, looking all artfully relaxed. He looks a little more relaxed now, staring out at the sky, his lips still slightly upturned and parted. He’s not looking at me, but the weight of his leg against mine is simultaneously comforting and more than a bit thrilling, and it sparks an ache in the pit of my stomach. My heart’s still fluttering like crazy, still as fast as before but lighter now, not like it’s going to burst out of me.

 

There are so many things to be said, but in this moment, as our carriage cranks its way up to the top of the Ferris wheel, I feel like everything I’m feeling is already laid open. We can work out the finer details, and I definitely do want to reinforce to him that I’m glad that it’s him, and that I only just read his note, and oh boy do I _definitely_ find him attractive too, no doubt about it. But even though a moment ago the words were ready to burst out of me, right now, the quiet feels right somehow.

 

I look out toward the night sky, stretched before us, twinkling from the stars and carnival lights.  

 

It’s romantic AF.


End file.
